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Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of Poetry by me
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Published:
2022-05-05
Words:
629
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
1
Hits:
2

My Hammer

Summary:

I wrote this in the middle of the night so if it sucks sorry lol

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

I was born with a hammer, tightly held in my tiny baby fists

For many years I wondered what it was for

I was far too small to wield it for anything useful,

and each time I swung it at a lamp I was scolded

For years I dragged my hammer along everywhere I went

Eventually, I realized my hammer was fun to play with

I'd gather my friends at recess and spin around with it,

knocking people over as I went

When the people I hit with my hammer left,

I didn't know why

My hammer was fun to play with for me,

so if they didn't like it maybe it was for the best that they left

Thats what I told myself, anyways

Over the years, I made new friends

After a while I stopped playing with my hammer at recess,

and I kept it in my backpack during class

 

It was until my friend tried to kill themselves

That I realized what my hammer was for

A hammers purpose is to fix things

and my friend needed a few nails to keep them from crumbling

My hammer was the tool I was given to help others

 

My hammer was very useful as I grew up

People would come to me for repairs

Some nails, glue and duct tape to hold them together

As I got older, my hammer got heavier

It dragged behind me as I walked

and if I wasn't careful it would break things

Still, people came to me for repairs

They knew I was safe, and that I'd help them

I had to.

 

In time my hammer was too heavy to move

It took so much effort to drag it out of bed with me

that I started wondering if it was worth it

The hammer, that I had decided was a curse, wouldn't leave

I tried to hide it, throw it off cliffs and leave it in fields

It always came back.

 

I stopped doing repairs, packed away my duct tape and glue

My parents were worried that I was sick

Other than my hammer, I was fine

But my hammer was my problem, and I had to deal with it

My mother suggested that I try sharing it

Break it into smaller pieces

and hand them away

So, later that night, I took a chisel to my hammer and broke off a corner

I gave it to one of my friends, and they stopped needing me for repairs

I broke more chunks and gave them to more people

each stopped needing my nails and duct tape and glue.

Finally, I gave the last piece to my mother

My hammer was a hammer no longer, now only a handle

A reminder of my purpose, gone.

 

It was lighter, though

I could do anything, just as easily as before

Without the weight of my hammer behind me

but with the absence, I realized

Now that people don't need me for repairs,

They don't need me at all.

 

I stopped responding to messages

I decided that if people didn't need me

They wouldn't want me either

It stayed that way for a few weeks

I came to terms with it and accepted it

Later that week however

My friend stopped me in the hall

They gave me the piece of my hammer

and told me that they needed repairs

One by one,

Each person who had part of my hammer followed suit

No matter how hard they tried, the hammer only hurt them

Their nails bent, their glue never dried and their tape didn't stick

I had my purpose back

My hammer was as heavy as ever, but I was needed

That in itself was all I needed

I needed my hammer

My purpose

Notes:

oopsies

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